


The Edge

by corvids_5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, Suicide, Veela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 00:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvids_5/pseuds/corvids_5
Summary: Daphne Greengrass had always felt a pull to the line where the sky meets the sea. It called to her. She just never knew that Bill Weasley would play a part in that calling.





	The Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> Lets start with this: I have taken liberties. I have taken liberties to write the story that I wanted to write. I've been eager to share this with everyone! Please understand that I am horrible at grammar and I do not have a beta. If anyone would like to lend their beta-ing services to this fic then just let me know because I would appreciate it so much. 
> 
> 1\. Please be aware that this story has eventual suicide. It is not explicit but rather stated. My intention when writing this story was to write it blunt and harsh. Suicide is not a joke, I do not think of it as one so please do not misunderstand.  
> 2\. This is my first attempt at writing a Veela/mate fic so please bare with it and contructive feedback is welcome!
> 
> This story was written for FB group Fairest if the Rare. Prompt: "See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me."

When she was a girl her mother had told her she would find the one whose heart called to her. Someone with fire in their blood, in their soul. Her mother whispered in her ear, the night she had lost her mind, turning over in agony, her body burning, her throat raw from screaming, her center torn apart. She whispered that an ember would grow in the nestled depths of her heart, it would grow, burn her deep, searing her until the wild flames that had bloomed consumed her, if she had failed in this task. 

"Find the one that brings the sea."

Her mother had chanted this, like a mantra into the night as she panted, her brow furrowed, sweat dripping from her chin. She had said, there would be one that brought the deep blue to quench the blazing red. Daphne had nodded at her mother’s words, looking towards her father as her mother spoke them. When a slender finger pulled at her chin Daphne looked back into her mother’s deep grey eyes, her head shaking slightly. 

“No… He was not the one…”

Daphne had nodded.

Her father had scolded her the moment she took her first breath, leaving the safety of her mother’s womb and into a cruel world. 

“I should have thrown you into the sea.” 

Her father had said, as he rubbed the swell of her mother’s growing belly. With a quivering lip she had smiled, wiping her arm across her face, crystal tears falling from her eyes. Even at five years old her heart knew that father’s should not say such things. As her mother’s womb swelled, her body shifted, broke under the weight of the growing being inside of her and with every waking moment the woman caged in her mother’s heart shrank away, withered into ash as the flames consumed her. In the shadow of her despair her father flourished, as her mother waned her father waxed, swelled with pride at the new life, the future of House Greengrass.

The night her mother died was the night her mother had told her, revealed to her the curse that burned in her blood and in a few words everything made sense because Astoria was born and her father’s wroth broke the air with a wild abandon. But before the lights in her mother’s eyes had burned out she had smiled and rubbed Astoria’s head because this child was safe. With her mother’s chest a sunken mess, her center battered and bleeding, her father cursed again. 

“To the sea with you both.”

So Daphne Greengrass walked through her life, she walked with a crater in her heart, searching for the piece that would fill it. She was fifteen when the first fever hit her, like lava on her skin and she squirmed under her sheets in her four poster bed, the heat burning her inside and out. When she was wheeled to the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey gave a desperate hum, her eyes unknowing and desperate for an answer.

“Run cold water, fill it with ice!” 

When her body had hit the freezing water the fire slowly sputtered out and slowly the crater in her heart began to grow as the fire slowly burned away. 

When she was twenty she saw him. His porcelain skin, almost sick in color stood out in a cloud of black, the fire that cradled his head burned like the sun. He was beautiful, he set her skin ablaze with song and she knew, knew he was the one. His scarred yet handsome face haunted her and even in her sleep, she could not escape him. The mere sight of him unnerved her, rattled her to her core and she knew. When she discovered who he was she had lost her will to eat, to drink because how could a Greengrass be bound to a Weasley? 

She had taken a job at Gringotts, and in the crowded lobby she had spied him, his face marred, his long hair like a burning flame and her body sang in his presence. He had smiled at her, a small nod of his head and soon he was speaking to her. He had came to open an account of his own, he placed a few knuts on the counter, a sheepish grin sliding over his lips as he scratched the back of his head. Daphne laughed and smiled, because she didn’t feel it, didn’t feel the burn inside her, didn’t feel the heat gnawing at her insides. She had tucked a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear, her diamond earrings blinding him. 

“Bill Weasley.” he had extended his hand towards her, his scarred lips pulling against his white teeth.  
“Daphne Greengrass, pleased to meet you.”

When their hands touched she felt them spark, an odd sensation since it lacked heat, it was cool like ice. He had smiled and nodded his head, tucking his hands back into his trouser pockets as he walked from the wizarding bank. 

In that moment she had tethered herself to the fleeting hope that he would quell the raging inferno in her chest. When she had left the wizarding bank that evening she had smiled at the setting sun, the horizon a jutting jagged line, disrupted by buildings but the brilliant ball of molten still burned at her skin. She had walked in silence, her flat only a few minutes away, paced her feet in time with the slow beat of her heat. 

The second week of spring came in a flash and she pushed a quill around her desk, eager to leave the confines of the bank. She had been slowly counting and recounting a pouch of knuts when a gust of warm breeze hit her in the face, her blonde hair fluttering on the air. She lifted her head to see who had entered, the boldness of red against a sea of black once again stood out to her and her insides squirmed. He had smiled when he spotted her and she felt as if her heart would burst at the action and as he walked towards her she smiled at him in turn. 

“If I may be bold,” he had said when he finally reached her desk, “You see, I'm in need of assistance. The Ministry is holding its annual Spring Gala and I would be honored if you would be willing to accompany me tonight." He tucked a strand of vermillion hair behind his ear, the deep onyx stone hanging from it made her heart skip. He was beautiful. 

She didn't know how long she had been staring but when his face suddenly contorted into a frown he spoke again.

"I'm sorry… where are my manners? I've only just me-"

"Yes."

She had cut him off. Her response sharp and confident. 

"I would be delighted to accompany you."

She beamed as he nodded, his thumb brushing along the tip of his nose as he backed away from her a smile peeking from behind his hand.

When the hour finally arrived she was frazzled, a bundle of raw, exposed nervous and she felt like she was going to be sick. Astoria had came over, emerald dress in tow. She had scolded her.

"You don't even know him. A Weasley. I knew his brother at Hogwarts. Duller than a post. His face, a mangled mess, it truly doesn't matter if he is Sacred 28. Father will not approve."

Yet Daphne didn't care because tonight she would be free of hurt and that was something her sister would never comprehend. As she pulled her blonde hair into a loose bun at the base of her neck, her sister entwined jet black stones around it. The emerald dress spilling from her thin waist, buckets of lace moving with her body as she made her way down the stairs. 

They had eaten two courses, before he had asked her to dance. His warm hands resting on her waist, the violin smoothly cutting through the room. She had swayed against his body and her body hummed at the closeness. His face had rested against hers and she felt the scratchy pull of his scarred flesh, curiosity getting the better of her she mustered up the courage to break the silence.

"Your scars… Do they… Do they hurt.." she breathed against his ear.

"Fenrir."

Daphne shook.

"Just a few scratches and nothing more."

He chuckled.

"I do like my meat rare and my magic…"

She felt him swallow, his hands pressing her torso further into his.

"It tingles and cracks. It breaks the surface from my fingertips."

Wandless magic, not unheard of, but difficult to perform and only the strongest could. 

“We all have are secrets…”

He had whispered in her ear, the huff of his breath causing her spine to tighten. 

“I can smell it. You’re part Veela…”

Daphne felt her fingers tighten in his and she blushed at his statement. It was true, she was and with the truth now revealed she instantly felt fear in her heart. 

“It explains my instant attraction to you, but what about you…”

Daphne sighed at his words and smiled, let him squirm. 

They had danced and laughed and as the night grew dark his eyes smoldered, his fingers tightened, her lips quivered and the very center of her yearned for the delicious touch of his rough fingertips. 

That night her stomach soared and a new ache replaced the burn. 

When she saw him again it was from across the way, in Diagon Alley, the beginnings of summer setting in. His pink tongue running over a melon drop cone from Florean Fortesue’s parlour. His tongue lapped at his knuckles as the sweet sticky liquid dripped from the cone, her cheeks had flushed at the sight. His cheeks had turned a brilliant pink when he had spotted her, he smiled and waved, his tongue darting out across his lips. She smiled back at him, hiding a giggle from behind her hand as she watched him toss a few galleons on the counter. A new melon drop cone was placed in his hand and he extended it towards her, gesturing for her to come and take it. Daphne skipped towards him, taking the cone from his hand, their finger brushing. 

They spent the day laughing and talking and as happiness bubbled inside her there was a fear that spread across her heart. 

That night Bill Weasley had lay awake in his bed, pulling at the collar of his white top he felt his stomach roll because Daphne Greengrass burned in his mind. Burned so hot and so deep he felt the front of his boxers tighten at the thought of her smooth skin, her blonde hair and stark grey eyes. Slowly his hand ghosted lower, his mind reeling, screaming not too, but the overwhelming need to sate this new feeling won out and soon he spilled across his stomach, his chest heaving in the dark. 

Daphne had awoken gasping, her center tingling, numb and wringing pleasure from her body. The moisture that had pooled between her legs had smeared across her inner thighs and she rubbed them tightly. The tension not enough to quell her unrelenting emptiness. That night a second fever hit, fast and on track to burn her out. She had ran a cold bath and sank into it’s icy depth, a bubblehead charm encasing her head as she waved her wand and the top layer turned to solid ice. 

The next day she tried and failed to fight the ever creeping blush that had bloomed through the night. Astoria had found her, in her flat, stirring a saucer of tea with a sheepish grin on her face. Tori found every reason to be appalled. 

"Father saw the Prophet. Disgusted he was. Nearly strangled Flitsy when he brought in breakfast."

Daphne scoffed at her sister. 

"Furious, I had to persuade him from flooing over, he was set on destroying everything."

Daphne frowned.

"Thanks to my quick thinking Marcus is delighted you want to go to dinner with him. Draco and I will even double."

Daphne frowned deeper.

As evening neared her dread of the events to come made her stomach twirl. How was she supposed to feign interest when she couldn't stop thinking of a certain Weasley?

When Marcus arrived she smiled dutifully, she had her father's wrath to think about. He had grown into his over larged teeth and if she was honest he was fairly handsome. He had extended his arm and she gracefully took it and in a flash she mixed with him, their bodies tangling as he apparated.

Her stomach heaved, he was rough, course in his form and she stumbled on the landing. The restaurant was crowded but the unmistakable blond hair of Malfoy stood out, Astoria waving them over. Marcus took her hand as he walked towards the table, he smiled at every witch he passed. Daphne sighed, brushing her hand down the center of her dress, dipping her head and then she saw it. A flash if red and he heart sped up, her eyes finally turning to narrow on a silken scarf wrapped around a young man's neck. She sighed again, long and drawn out as they reached the table. 

"Daphne…"

The blonde witch looked up, it was him, he was here and suddenly her heart dropped as she saw his eyes resting on Flint's hand in hers. She saw a flash of something in his eyes, something she couldn't place as he turned and walked through the restaurant and out the door.

Marcus had already sat down when Daphne turned towards her sister, mouthed 'sorry' and ran towards the exit. 

Frantic, frazzled, pupils blown she searched, searched for the man that made her blood run cold. 

"Thought you were on a date."

Daphne whirled around her eyes landing on the man she was searching for. He was standing there, dark trousers, white button down, his vermillion hair tucked behind one ear and that deep black onyx gem hanging from it made her mind swirl. He was… was… those were muggle sticks. Tori said Draco liked them. 

Cigarettes? Yes, that sounded right. 

She shook her head because it wasn't what it seemed and she had the overwhelming urge to justify the scene he saw.

"It wasn't what you think. Astoria wanted to play matchmaker and my father has been rather upset. The prophet hasn't been kind… To you most of all…"

Greengass in bed with Weasley:  
Does he howl at the moon at night?

Ministry Gala Unusual Couples:  
Beauty and the Beast

Thee headlines had been unfair to him because he was fair from a beast. 

"I don't read that shit," he threw his cigarette to the ground and walked away. Daphne felt her heart falter and fall and it almost shattered, but he turned back towards her and smiled as he said, 

"Wanna go for a ride?"

And yes, oh sweet delicious Morgana, she truly did.

That night they flew through the sky, his broomstick sprinting across the moon and she sighed into his chest as she leaned into him. 

The trees had lost their life as snow began to fall and her body hummed in appreciation of the cold solace. It had been a few weeks since she had last seen him and her mind grew lazy at the absence of his presence. Pulling on an overcoat she left her flat, they had spent the last two seasons growing in on one another and as a new day past into history she wanted more. His presence chased away the fire, calmed her center and she longed for the growing chasm in her chest to swell with life. She was lost in her thoughts when a hand darted out in her direction, pulling her into an alleyway. 

It was him and she fell into the closeness, heat flaring in her cheeks. He was breathless when he spoke, his hair clinging to his forehead, a slight sheen across his scarred face. 

“Have dinner with me,” it was a command more than a question, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. She had nodded into the brick wall behind her, her eyes closing.  
“Tonight, at the witching hour, meet me where the sky meets the sea,” his lips brushed against her ear and in a flash he was gone.

That night she had made her way towards the sacred cliffs, the ones that thousands of witches and wizards had bound themselves too. He was waiting, bold and beautiful against the sea. The hour was late and darkness had crept in around them. They had eaten to their heart's content, the bottle of Elderflower wine slowly diminishing as the night progressed. 

In her inebriated state she had brushed against him, his hard body pushing into her and she sighed into the touch. She had waited for this, for this moment, to feel complete. She felt his fingers press into her arm, pulling her closer to him, his nose pressing into the crown of her head. Her fingers clenched into his chest as his grip tightened, his nose pressing harder into her.  
“Why, why do I feel this unyielding need…” he sighed into her hair as he pulled her back. His eyes were glazed over as he stared back into hers, her head nodding at his words.  
“I feel it too… it’s like an ember that sparks and burns when you aren’t near.”  
“Like a raging fire,” he added. “that will eventually consume us,” she continued what he dare not say.  
He pulled her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her as he kissed the top of her head. Pulling her head from his chest, Daphne smiled her lips stained purple from the wine and her finger pointed towards the horizon, her eyes following her slender hand.  
“You see the line where the sky meets the sea? Just there,” her finger pointed higher, “It calls to me…” she whispered.  
His fingers pulled her face towards him as he leaned his head down to brush his lips against hers, his tongue darting out to catch her lips. She sighed at the contact, pulling his neck towards her she melted into his searing kiss. 

The next day the busy streets of Hogsmeade pushed in around her and the suffocating feeling of bodies encasing her made her heart speed up. In desperate need to escape the crowds she had found her way into The Hogs Head, it was empty enough, only a few customers to serve. She had found a seat and ordered a drink, Gigglewater. The Daily Prophet had been thrown on the table, a ring of firewhiskey dampening it’s pages and there, in the center, the headline mocked her. 

Sacred Twenty-Eight Member:  
Bill Weasley Betrothed

A shadow loomed over her seconds later, nodding towards the table she looked up at the waiter, tears threatening to fall from her eyes, but it wasn’t the young woman that had taken her order.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Bill stared down at her, his eyes flashing at the paper, because she knew. She felt her heart beat fast, felt it stammer against her chest at his closeness at his dishonesty in the night before. 

“May I sit?” He pointed towards the empty seat in the booth, his voice shaky. Slowly and unsure she felt herself nod at his question. He had sat in a hurry and running his thick fingers through his long hair he smiled at her. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his hands wringing around the gloves he held. It was winter and the tips of his fingers burned blue. “I’m sorry, but I’ve tried. It’s strange this pull I have. It just seems never ending and I,” Bill stammered off. 

“I can’t stop,” Bill gasped out, his face falling in his hands. “I feel so ashamed. That,” he pointed towards the paper that had fallen to the table, “Happened before I even knew you and now that I do, I can’t stop…”

Daphnee pulled her glass of Gillywater to her lips, swallowed the contents in three large gulps, a small giggle pulled from behind her teeth then she looked him in the eye.

"I'm dying." 

Her tone was flat, her eyes narrowed as his widened. His mouth has moved to speak but she had cut him off before he could.

"There is a fire in my blood and it's burning me up from the inside. You know why. What I am, what you are too me...."

Bill frowned at her words because he knew, but he was so desperate to be wrong.

"Was last night a game to you…" she seethed, her voice low, the snake in her rearing its head. 

Bill stammered. "I didn't know…"

"Of course you didn't know…. When I'm with you the fire disappears, recedes like the sea."  
Bill clenched the side of the table at her confession. 

"It was arranged. I don't love her…"

Daphne gave a soft smile, a small tip of her blond hair sticking to the corner of her lip before she swiped it away. 

"And me…?" She finally said, as he stood from the table. 

“Come.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Let me show you how much I love you while your heart is still mine,” he turned and walked towards the back and like the moon he pulled her towards him. It took her three seconds to make up her mind, before she followed him to the back of the bar. 

In a flash Daphne felt her head hit the brick wall, spots of black sprouting across her vision as she felt Bill’s lips descend on her, devouring the soft skin at the curve of her shoulder and she shuddered. Her fingers found their way into his hair, her nails pulling at his scalp siphoning a hiss from his lips. His hands had weaved around her, pulling her closer as they found the end of her jumper, his blue fingertips brushing against her heated skin. She couldn’t comprehend how her jumper had fallen to the floor but when his lips pressed against her left breast, his tongue darting over the now exposed sensitive bud, Daphne sagged at the sensation a soft sigh floating into the room around them. 

Bill was slow, methodical in his conquest of her body, his fingers tracing up her exposed chest to brush against her bare neck as he pressed a knee between her legs, raising it slightly to feel the heat from her center, a smirk pulling across his lips as he felt her buck down, swivel her hips and moan into his shoulder. He thought he would die if she did it one more time, but when she did it spurred him. His fingers found the button on her pants, the zipper yielding to his assault as he pulled them from her body. Pressing her further into the wall as his fingers pressed into the front her knickers and in one long sigh he pressed his head into her shoulder, the blunt tips of his fingers brushing against the damp fabric that traped her scorching heat.

“You are perfect… I don't even need to feel you to know," he said as his fingers stroked her clit, small circles until her eyes scrunched shut a strangled gasp swallowed by his now unrelenting mouth as his mashed his lips against hers. He wanted to explode, see blinding white as a searing heat left his body and Merlin he would burn for this. His tongue glided across her bottom lip and he felt her yield, open her mouth and sucked his in and then it began. A war raged between their lips, teeth gnashing and tongues dancing and he felt his cock twitch as he felt her hand place his to her abdomen. 

"I want to feel you here…"

He groaned at her words, it was guttural, tore through him like a hurricane and if he had less self control he would have came.

She had waited for this, since the moment she saw him, the instant they danced in a room full of people, the day they ate melon drop cones and laughed, from the moment he held her on the cliffs. This was what she was waiting for what her body and soul burned for years for. There was no time to be scared as she knowingly placed her fingers at the entrance of his trousers. There was no shame in her eyes when she pulled his zipper and dove inside, grasping the hardness that was him in her small hand. Her eyes caught his jaw clench at her touch, such a small gesture that set her nipples hard because he was fighting it. Holding back, teetering on the edge of self control and she wanted him to abandon it. 

His hand had left her center, both now encasing her, pressed into the brick wall, pinning her between stone and flesh. Slowly she moved her hand and twisted her hips against his already wet thigh, evidence of her arousal causing her to blush. He groaned at her action and the hand that she had bracing on his shoulder had left, her full weight now pressing into his thigh and she moaned at the pressure of it, the slight pull at her center causing her movements to falter. She felt her heartbeat quicken, felt it stammer in her chest as her left hand found its way to his arse, squeezing it has she moved her hand along his cock, swiping her thumb across the head of him, pulling the beads of liquid towards her palm. Daphne felt the brick wall behind her crack and she knew he had broken it, wandless magic, she shivered. This man would be the ruin of her. 

She didn't know when he had moved his hands from wall, but when she felt them pulling at her arse she let out a yelp of surprise, the thin fabric of her knickers tearing away. He had pulled her from his thigh, her hand ripping from around him.

Slowly Bill traced the entrance of her core, his finger working the sensitive flesh, his eyes never leaving hers as he swiped an S over her center. 

"I want to feel you here," he spoke. His finger slick with her want slid further into her, until she squirmed against the brick wall, jutting her hips towards him in desperation.

She didn't speak, could speak, could breath. His finger curled inside of her and she convulsed, eyes scrunching closed as he brushed against something she didn't know existed. 

"Oh sweet Morgana…" Daphne felt her face flare, felt her center squeeze. "Oh…" her head rolled against the brick as his finger was joined by another and together they stoked a wildfire, brushing and curling in on that sweet delicious spot, until the gelatinous pleasure cascaded down her spine. His hand worked at her center, his finger pulling from her sounds she didn't think she would ever make. 

Her arms had gone limp in her surrender and when she felt him withdraw from inside her she sighed in discontent at the loss. He had braced her with one arm as he had grabbed one of her wrists and dragged her hand toward his straining cock.

"Let me feel you here…"

Her head slapped the brick three times as she nodded out her approval. The pain slowly ebbing the burning need, calming that raging fire. 

There was no second guessing, no hesitation because they had been dancing around this for the better part of a year and she needed him, needed him before he was lost to her forever.

Her body sang to his and his burned for her and Merlin he wanted to feel her. Feel her hot and wet around him, wanted to bury himself deep inside of her, the thought vanishing when the blunt head of his cock rubbed against her slit. 

Bill hissed at the contact, his hands tracing down her body until his hands pressed into her abdomen. Daphne felt his lips press into her skull has he mumbled an incantation, her belly glowing a violent violet. Daphne moaned at the sight of it and as her eyes rolled around in her head she felt him press into her. She felt the slight sting and pull of being deliciously stretched, felt the thick warmth of him fill her and soon it wasn't fire she was feeling but ice. 

Bill moved slowly, agonizingly slow, his eyes crossing at her tightness, her wetness, the way her nails bit into his sides. This was the edge, the edge of something, something he couldn't place. He felt her squirm against him as she pushed her pelvis into his, drawing a low hiss from him.

She needed him to move, needed him to press himself deeper and when he finally did her mind exploded. His pace was slow, delicate and it wrung from her a thousand tides, it was like waves crashing and he was the sea. 

She was there, she could see it, Bill's soft grunts pulling her closer to that sweet precipice as he snapped his hips into hers in a frenzy, stroking that delicate spot inside her that made her toes curl and breath hitch. He had begun to move faster now, no longer delicate and slow, his nails digging into her arse as he pulled her closer, his pelvis rubbing against her sensitive clit, teasing her. 

But she was getting closer, closer to the edge and she wanted to vanish, vanish into it. 

He thought he would never be whole again, because if this ended, if this ceased to exist, them, this union he would surely end as well. As he sunk into the deep heat of the woman in his arms he reveled in it, in its warm fucking embrace. Yet, in the recessed of his mind, the part that still remained somewhat coherent in her tormenting onslaught was screaming, screaming in the confines of his veins because this would end. 

Daphne was rising and falling, his hips snapping forward, his fingers pulling at her breasts, his tongue laving at the delicate skin at her neck. He was consuming her like curling waves beat against a rocky shore, overthrowing, overtaking, conquering. Daphne rolled her head to the side to give his lips better access, her fingers pulling on the base of his neck, keeping him close. The silken sheen between their bodies made her pulse quicken, she felt so full so completely and thoroughly shagged as his cock pulsed inside of her. She would never get enough of the sensation, of his quick agitated thrusts the way they made her center weep with need. 

"I love you…"

Daphne screamed.

Screamed as her core contracted, as it squeezed. That was when she saw it, that perfect line and she realized in that moment that he was the sea and she was the sky and the thing that was calling her was this, was this edge she was now tumbling down. Guttural moans ripped through his chest as she felt the heat of him coat her, she reveled in the feel. Moaning out her orgasm as she kissed the side of his head, stroked his hair as he held her tight. 

"It was you all this time… calling me…"

Six months later

Bill had married Fleur Delacour in the spring. Married, as arranged and he sighed when he looked up and saw her. Daphne had gone to the reception, Marcus Flint on her arm. 

Bill has made his way towards her, slinking in and out of guests, shrinking back to shake off Fleurs reaching hand. When he had reached Daphne his face pulled into a frown because despite the glistening band on his ring finger he spotted a brilliant diamond on hers. But of course, didn't she deserve to be happy? 

They had carried that night between their hearts and went their separate ways. He had scene her from time to time and he would quiver, because he remembered and his heart and body still yearned for her. The last night he had seen her she was a shadow, a ghost and she floated past him as she smiled and nodded. 

Then one night the wind was warm and it billowed through his hair as a shimmer caught his eye. A floating wispy shimmer that burned his eyelids as it hit him in the face, a battering across his cheek, like small wings. A small hummingbird flitted around him, its wings thrumming in the night. He was mesmerized by the beauty in it when a familiar voice whispered on the warm breeze. 

"It calls me…"

Then it was gone, vanished and he felt fear. Fear like he never felt before because in the brief time that they had together her voice had never sounded to distraught, so lost. Bill had folded his hands in front of him as Fleur called to him from behind the curtain and with a heavy sigh her turned his back to the growing echo of the silent night.

They found her two weeks later. She had thrown herself from that cliff, the one that so many witches and wizards had bounded from. The cliff where he held her and kissed her, where they laughed and drank at. The cliff that was nestled in his memory, the very memory that would float in his pensive until he too departed this earth.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> x Corvids
> 
> ps. I am aware of some formatting issues which I am actively trying to fix.


End file.
